#but yeah anyways remember proper tagging etiquette kids

[lurkingforthesakeoflurking]

just saw a couple of gh0apers upset on twitter cuz a gh0ap fic they were reading had untagged ghostroach n I can't help but think it's a bit funny

[salty-donut-collecter]

Why Stay?

Act II, Part One

Twenty-Seven   {Masterlist}   Part Two

Chapter Word Count: 1,652

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety mentioned, yelling, talk about bones breaking, insults

Please tell me if I need to tag anything else :)

*Also, I’m planning on having this story as a slow burn, so please be prepared :)

Prompts: “Do I look like I give a fuck?”, “I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I’m feeling a lot of  it.”, and “Not to dictate your life, but drop your shitty friends.”

A/N: It’s been a bit, but I’m glad I have a system for this stuff now! Lmao this story is gonna have you guys dying, but I hope you like it nonetheless. 

Happy reading! (Also, feel free to comment your thoughts! I love reading comments :))

Also, if you’d like to be added to the tags list, please let me know! :D

_____________________________________________________

You woke up on Saturday morning, a headache forming as you tried to remember what you’d dreamed.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, getting up and stumbling around in the dark until you got into the dark hallway.

Jesus, what time is it? You wondered, looking around at how dark it was. You looked at your smartwatch (something Katie had left in your room for Christmas), sighing as it read 1:22 am because you knew there was no chance you would be able to go back to sleep now.

Okay… you took a deep breath, I guess today is just going to be a lot longer than planned.

And indeed it would.

Now, you didn’t really think the day was long…. Until Micheal called a “family meeting”, which really just meant y’all had to sit in a room and listen to him before discussing a topic he’d introduced. (The last topic you’d witnessed was furries and kinks because he wanted to see Steven die a little on the inside. (You all know he’s a kinky bastard at heart))

You sighed, wondering how long this one would take because you’d been getting ready to try and sleep again. However, you were intrigued to find he was holding a meeting in one of the kitchen rooms, which was just a room with a huge ass table that could fit the whole family. (So this would be the equivalent to a normal family’s kitchen table.)

You sighed and made your way up there, making sure to be the last person in the room so you could sit next to Micheal, letting Maverick take the right side, while you sat on his left.

“Okay, so I know it hasn’t been that long since Y/n’s been back,” Micheal gave a little eye roll, “Buut, I also don’t care.” he shrugged, holding a hand around his torso in a way you found particularly interesting.

“So, due to my inability to give a shit, and my abundant need to call family meetings, I decided to quell my raging curiosity,” Micheal smirked a little, clearing his throat and demolishing all visible joy as quickly as it came. He then proceeded to open his jacket, extract a familiar folder from under his shirt, and toss it far onto the table, where it flew open and spread its’ contents out for everyone to see.

“So,” Micheal looked at you, his contact lenses red because he was into that, “Care to tell me what this is?”

You had no doubt in your mind that he had already read it, and been furious about it. This told you he already knows everything in that folder by heart, and he was ready to both defend you, and rip the team a new one, which was something you actually found refreshing.

“It’s a file of the information I gathered to quell my own curiosity, actually.” You mused, sitting back and letting your feet sit up on the table. Your chair tipped a bit, but you didn’t mind it much.

Clint was doing the same things, actually. You had a small leaning competition as the conversation continued.

“What were you curious about?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

You smirked, taking a break from you small competition as you sat upright again, “I thought you had powers, actually, and no one gave me the answers I needed to make a proper conclusion.” You shrugged, “So I looked into it myself and got kicked out of the Teen Titans.”

Steve glared at you, “Nobody kicked you out, Y/n. You left because you didn’t want to face the consequences of your actions.”

You chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t know getting my jaw broken by your shield in a world I made just for you was an invitation to stay and continue to be an Avenger…” You looked up quizzically, “Come to think of it, accusing me of killing people behind your back because I’m an apparent rage monster also didn’t seem like a part of the welcome wagon-- wow, Steve, if you’re so good with etiquette and I’m so bad with it, you should probably teach me-- oh wait, you did, didn’t you? After I’d just gotten here? I’m sorry I failed as a student. It’s just so--”

“Y/n, that’s enough.” Rhodey deadpanned, glaring at you from next to an already peeved Tony. Guess they didn’t get much sleep either. “We’re all happy to have you back, trust me.”

Clint laughed, “Wow, Rhodey, that’s rich!” he sat up, arms softly landing at the table as he looked at the Iron Patriot, “You really wanna go down that route? The whole: yeah, we’re happy to see you again, even though we literally accused you of being a psycho killer last time we talked, but hey! It’s all good now, right? Cause Jesus Christ dude!” Clint laughed, “She literally ran around the fucking w o r l d so she could get a break from our fugly mugs. So I say we give her one. There’s no need to drag this on, Steve.  Little girls wouldn’t be leaving Christmas presents in her room if she was a horrible person.” Clint rolled his eyes, already done with the conversation that’d just started.

“Barton, we’re trying to--” Vision started

“Don’t give me that logical bullshit cause that’s not happening right now. You, Vision, can logic your way into and out of this, but them? Yeah, no. They don’t have the goals you do, and it’s fucking time you realize how biased they are.”

“Okay, but my husband was literally the Winter Soldier.” Steve deadpanned.

Clint gave him the weirdest smile, “And he had a type of microsurgery done on him that was very painful and unsafe to get HYDRA out of his head.” his smile dropped, “We fucking been knowing about your husband, Steve. The thing is, no one cares anymore because he took care of that problem as a consenting adult.”

“I don't need a surgery.” You gave the people at the table a weird look, wondering if the kids should’ve been invited to this conversation. You felt a small finger tap your lower shoulder. You flinched, but calmed down when you saw Katie.

She motioned for you to come closer, so you leaned down to her level.

“Can I sit in your lap?” She whispered, lifting her arms up so you could lift her.

You chuckled, “Of course, my smol bean.” you replied, gently grabbing her under her armpits and lifting her into your lap, where you’d crossed your legs so she’d be comfortable. You looked over to see Chloe itching at her arms. She’s getting anxious.

“Okay but guys,” Micheal’s voice somehow transpiring over everyone else’s with great intensity. “You’re failing to answer my question.” He looked down at you, as if knowing something you should know too. (Really you thought of it as only half of “sharing a knowing look”)

You just shake your head, nothing coming to mind for now. He also shook his head, disappointed in you for some reason.

Micheal turned to the rest of the adults, looking peeved as per usual.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me?” He asked, changing the question to better their ability to answer.

Everyone was quiet. The less everyone spoke, the more upset you got with their inability to take responsibility for their forgivable mistakes. You understood the fact that it was a hard thing to do sometimes, but this was getting fucking ridiculous.

“Okay, I get that this is hard for you but honestly grow the fuck up.” you snapped, your eyes rolling as you moved Katie over a little bit. It’s not like you needed to be screaming in her ear-- she didn’t do anything wrong and was too cute for that anyway.

“Y/n there’s more to this than--” Stephen started, but the excuses were honestly too annoying to listen to again.

“That I obviously know about cause I’m a stupid teenager.” You angrily sighed, “So I’ve heard. However, I’ll also say that we can’t do shit about the other things at hand if you’ve never bothered to-- I dunno-- talk about them?” You huffed, your knee bouncing as you try to maintain your composure. Katie is looking more anxious by the minute.

“Y/n, will you be okay?” Katie asked.

You gave her a sorrowful look. You were almost mad at Micheal for bringing her and Chloe into this.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay sweet pea,” you assure her, sounding sweeter than honey on top of Turkish delight.

Your gaze returned to the conversation at hand, which had actually gotten really heated within the couple of seconds you’d left for. Okay then.

“I don’t have to explain myself to an overgrown lab rat.” Stephen snapped, pointing at Pietro from his place at the table.

You stood up, Katie in your arms for only a moment before you quickly set her down. “Stephen, we don’t need to turn this into a fight.” You cautioned, your eyes starring the Master of The Mystic Arts with a flash of anger.

“She’s right, Stephen.” Tony was also standing, looking at Strange with quite the opposite look. You hadn’t seen Tony look that concerned for someone in a while.

The air was tense. Having so many emotions in one room was bound to create trouble, but the type of trouble was a mystery to everyone, causing a subtle fear that only stirred the pot more.

“Stephen, what kind of trouble are you talking about?” Steve jumped in, also standing.

You were surprised by his random aid to your side of the argument, but you decided that it was the least of your worries right now. Your hand gently squeezed Katie’s, momentarily reassuring her after hearing her softly whimper.

Stephen glared at Steve, as if wondering if he should answer him honestly, or tell him to shut the fuck up because he’s been nothing but unhelpful this entire time.

Well, you were screwed.  

_____

Taglist: @introvertedsin @galacticalstarcat @acidrain707

[ebelwrites]

Hisame’s Raffle Prize

Hey, look what finally got done! This was my first attempt at writing ibvs, so I’m a little nervous about how it turned out. But I think it went okay and I hope you like it, Hisame. Sorry I’m not tagging you immediately, I’m trying to use this fic as an experiment to see why my last two fics didn’t show up in searches; the running theory is, in addition to not being allowed to swear in the tags, you also can’t say the f-word at all in text. Anyway, I’ll dm it to you so I know you find it. And so, I hope everyone enjoys! EDIT- Experiment confirmed: You can’t say the f-word in anywhere on tumblr anymore, whether it be tags or text. Tagging Hisame now.

“What happened to your face?” Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to start a conversation, but Isaac didn’t feel the need to adhere to typical conversation etiquette. The angry twin, Nevin, he remembered, glared at him with an eye that was rapidly swelling. He also had a split lip and generally looked roughed up.

“That bastard Quinton,” Nevin spat, wiping away the blood from his mouth. “The coward attacked me with his cronies watching, so I couldn’t use my powers against him.” Isaac grit his teeth; the beginnings of purple bruises were appearing on Nevin’s face.

“Do you want some ice or something? My place isn’t far.” Isaac wasn’t entirely certain why he offered, maybe he didn’t want the guy bleeding in the street or maybe he thought that Nevin would go seeking revenge on Edward if left him to his own devices, but at least Nevin seemed as confused about his offer as he did.

“Why?” The glare hadn’t lessened in the slightest and Isaac suddenly remembered just how little he knew about the other. “What reason could you have for wanting to help me?”

“Because I have a soul? Look, I hate Error about as much as you do,” Nevin snorted at that, “and I enjoy doing things that would piss him off. You also look like you just got mugged, so can you just accept my help without questioning it?” The other was silent for a moment afterwards before he finally spoke again, voice much softer and quieter.

“Okay.” Isaac let out a sigh before turning around.

“Come on. My place is just around the block.”

“Piece of shit Quinton,” Nevin hissed and grit his teeth as Isaac helped to clean his split lip, “The instant I can catch him without witnesses, he’s going to regret it.” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“Or maybe, you could not do that.” The glare Nevin gave him was much less threatening with one eye behind an ice pack.

“I thought you didn’t like Error.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I think beating him up behind the school is a good idea.” Isaac finished up with what he could do for Nevin’s wounds and sat back. The other boy had a look on his face that said he knew Isaac was right but didn’t like it.

“You know, since he used witnesses against you, how about trying to use them against him?” Nevin raised an eyebrow at that, but he seemed interested. “Your strength means you could jam his locker door or something. If it’s in the school, it just looks to everyone else like bad luck.”

“And he couldn’t say it was me without looking crazy.” An evil grin spread across Nevin’s face. “That’s great! A terrible case of bad luck and he has to stew in the truth that he can’t share.” The black-haired boy started to stand and his ice pack began to slide away before Isaac stopped him.

“Don’t get up, keep icing that eye.” He opened to a blank page in his notebook and took out a pen. “I can write while we brainstorm.” Nevin blinked at him, puzzled.

“You… want to help?” Isaac gave an evil grin that almost outshined Nevin’s earlier one.

“I did say I didn’t like Error. I’d enjoy knocking him down a peg or two.” Nevin remained puzzled for only a few moments more before his enthusiasm returned twice as strong. “Error’s series of unfortunate events. Sounds good?”

Nevin snorted and mumbled something about ‘that show’ before moving closer to Isaac and beginning to pitch ideas. Isaac wasn’t certain why he noticed so sharply that he and Nevin were almost touching.

Hey, Isaac,

The alert made Isaac look at his phone. The ID said ‘Nightmare’; Nevin had told Isaac about that old nickname and the artist felt it fit the strange boy.

I’ve been thinking about the finale. I’m thinking it should be something big, something public, but also something that Error know it’s from us while the rest of the school doesn’t.

Another text came through quickly.

That is, if you’re okay with him knowing you’re involved in this. If not, we’ll just have him know it was me.

They’d started their campaign a couple days ago; Edward was suddenly finding himself with unfortunate and repeat cases of exploding pens in his bag, jammed lockers, and black stains. Isaac could see him growing more and more frustrated with every incident that happened to him, and giving Isaac dark looks whenever he spotted him. Isaac had taken to avoiding the art room just to make sure that Edward couldn’t pull him into another closet.

I’m cool with it, Isaac sent back, we can work out ideas for what to do this afternoon.

That was another part of his routine that had changed. Ever since the first day, Nevin had been coming over every afternoon they could manage and they’d been planning together. Isaac had found himself enjoying the other boy’s company far more than he’d thought.

A soft snort made Isaac quickly glance over to the desk next to him, hiding his phone in a panic. Chris stared back at him with a look of complete amusement. Isaac sighed and tried to calm his racing heart.

“So,” Chris leaned in with a grin that spelled nothing but mischief, “you and Nevin are getting pretty close, huh?”

“Yes,” Isaac drew out the word in suspicion, “I’m helping him with something.”

“Something that requires you to meet practically every day?” There was something in Chris’ tone that made Isaac feel, not threatened but definitely uncomfortable. He felt almost like he’d been caught in a lie or had a secret slip out.

“It’s something he wants done properly, so we’re spending a lot of time on it.” Chris sat back at that and didn’t say anything for a while. It was almost long enough for Isaac’s attention to drift away.

“Do you like him?”

“No.” The answer came quickly, too quickly. Chris raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Is that your real answer, or just what you think you should say?” Isaac glowered at his friend before turning away. He heard Chris eventually give up and turn back to his own work, allowing Isaac to pull out his phone again. He had several messages from Nevin, the last asking ‘Something up?’

Isaac hesitated briefly before shaking himself and replying with ‘Chris was just being a jerk, don’t worry about it.’ Chris’ question remained in his head for the rest of the day, and Isaac found he couldn’t find a proper answer for it.

Afternoon came and Isaac found himself sitting in his bedroom with Nevin planning out tomorrow’s Error Unfortunate Events. The smaller was excitedly scribbling ideas so quickly that they were hard to read and talking about as fast as he was writing. Who knew the thing that would get the dark kid all excited like a preschooler was causing misery to someone else? Isaac had been quiet that afternoon, Chris’ question from before still in his head. Was he saying no because that was truly how he felt, or was he saying it because it’s what he was expected to say? And so, Isaac had spent the afternoon mostly silent, just watching the other. Of course, Nevin had asked why when he noticed Isaac was so quiet but he’d just told the other that he was tired. Surprisingly thoughtful, Nevin had asked if Isaac wanted to do this another day; ‘giving Error a day of false hope before starting again’, he’d added.

But that would only be putting off finding the answer he wanted, so he’d said no. And now he observed, waiting for his answer to reveal itself. The more he watched, the more he noticed things. Things like the sparkle of mischievous excitement in his eyes, or the way his free hand gestured enthusiastically with his speech. And it brought to mind other things like his smug grin when the first unfortunate event in their plan went off without a hitch, or the laughter he let out when Isaac had drawn a plan for an idea and included a grumpy and intentionally badly drawn Edward.

Nevin eventually noticed that Isaac was staring at him and turned to look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It was said surprisingly softly, and was that a glimmer of concern? Isaac felt his heart rate starting to pick up, and the pieces that had slowly been fitting themselves together in his mind came into stark relief; finally, an answer. Nevin was still looking at him, waiting for his own answer. Well, if there was one thing Isaac definitely wasn’t, it was a coward.

Isaac leaned forward, and his lips met Nevin’s. The other boy was frozen stiff for several moments, long enough for Isaac to start worrying that he’d made a mistake, before leaning into the kiss himself. They parted soon after, Isaac could feel his heated cheeks and, looking over, it was clear that Nevin had flushed cheeks to match. They sat in silence for a moment, processing what had happened, before Nevin broke it with a chuckle.

“Well, if you’d wanted to kiss me, you only had to ask.” Isaac felt the last bits of worry melt away with that statement.

“So, you’re not mad?” The other shook his head in a negative before shuffling closer to Isaac.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ with a wide grin. “Pretty damn thrilled about it, actually.” He flopped onto Isaac, grin still wide with mischief. “I hope that wasn’t a one-time thing, I’ll be pretty upset if it was.”

“Uh, sure. If you want there to be more.” Isaac wrapped an arm around Nevin to help support the other’s body weight and Nevin continued his scribblings. They were in silence for a few moments more. “Does… this mean we’re boyfriends?”

Nevin looked up at him and gave Isaac the very first small and genuine smile he’d seen from the other. “Yeah, boyfriends sounds nice.”

Nevin’s laughter rang in his ears as they watched Edward’s locker explode with black goop/ink. It only got more intense as Edward realised the little calling card they’d made for him inside and screamed in anger. Isaac joined Nevin in laughing when he heard one of the minions say something along the lines of ‘nope, this is conjuring shit, I’m out’. That told Isaac all he needed to know if he’d worked it perfectly; at the back of Edward’s locker, the ink would have formed the letters ‘N’ ‘I’.

Realising that Error’s face was now apocalyptic and was gazing vaguely in their direction, Isaac decided it would be smart to get out of there and took his boyfriend’s hand to lead them away; Nevin didn’t seem to be in any condition to walk on his own at the moment. Isaac heard the distinct sounds of Edward blaming the two of them for the mess, and knew the entire plan had come to fruition when another student asked ‘are you trying to claim they have witchcraft powers?’

How Isaac wished that he could see Edward’s face when they said that, he certainly heard them go very quiet, but he supposed he’d have to settle for a sense of a job well done and maybe a kiss from his boyfriend too; once his boyfriend was able to breathe again, that is. It looked like it might be a while.

[victoria-seaberg-blog]

[Hello, here’s another fic haha I’m on a roll today! Thanks for the rps @lady-collette @ladyvenusvale @ladyaadamaier You all are awesome and I had so much fun! This one is pretty long, so be aware! Also sorry it’s unedited...]

DAY 2: I like her 10 times better

I know exactly what I do when I wake up this morning. I think back about the first day. I messed up so badly already. Multiple fights. Drama everywhere. I mean I sure made this whole experience more exciting, but I do not want to get kicked out.

My maids help me into another gorgeous dress. This time it’s a little black dress, with long sleeves. I’m glad to be wearing a shorter dress for once, now I can show one of my best assets: my legs. My favourite part about the outfit are the little leopard socks. They completely finish of the entire outfit.

I’ve told my maids about my little plan. They seemed genuinely happy that I’m going to say goodbye to the drama. For now at least.

I’m amazed by the amount of food options there are at breakfast. The palace chefs are creators and they seem to know exactly what I like to eat in the morning. Yoghurt with granola and some fresh berries. And to top it all off, a mug filled with hot chocolate. Perfection!

I overhear some girls talking about the royals. Who they’ve talked to, what they’ve talked about, who they’re planning on meeting next. I haven’t met any of the royals yet, except for the Prince. But that’s the only one I have to meet to be honest. I’m here for him, not for his brothers. Especially not for Prince Max, the kid could be my son. Okay not really, that would make me a child mom but you get my point.

I get that it’s exciting to be living in a palace among the most powerful people in the country. But girls, you don’t have to throw yourselves at them. Don’t embarrass yourself, please. Oh well, they’re allowed to embarrass themselves. It would make my path to the Prince’s heart easier and clearer.

After breakfast I decide to put my plan into action so I approach the one person who would give me the advice I needed. Here goes nothing.

“Lady Collette?” I say as I get close enough to her. I make a small curtsy, “can I take up little of your time?”

I’m a bit scared of how she will respond. My maids told me how strict and stern she could be.

She looks up, “sure, dear. What is it?”

So far so good.

“I have a bit of an unusual question for you. In the etiquette lesson, you’ve taught us that gossip and backstabbing are a no go. But I happen to attract drama and fights everywhere I go, so I was wondering how do I deal with those situations in a ladylike way?”

Lady Collette purses her lips. Is that a good thing? Or is she going to punish me? “A lady never dignifies malicious words and mockery with a response. She keeps to herself in that regard and holds kindness and poise to the highest belief.”

I nod my head. “And if someone openly attacks me, how can I defend myself but still be kind?” I honestly have no clue.

“You simply smile and tell them you hope they find love someday. You can defend yourself and fight back by still being proper.” This woman should write her own bible. I would definitely read it.

“Okay,” I nod to show my understanding. “Kindness, poise and being proper. Those are the keywords right?”

Lady Collette smiles, “now you’re getting it, Lady… uh.” She looks at my name tag, “Victoria.”

“Those were my questions, thank you for helping me.”

“My pleasure, dear.”

I smile as I walk away from her. That went better than expected. I even got a smile from her. And she gave me reasonable advice. All I have to do now is remember the keywords and put them in practice next time a drama situation occurs.

I retreat to my bedroom where I decide to look at the dresses in my closet. All of them are so beautiful. I let out a quiet laugh as I see that most of the dresses have a very low-cut V-neck. Definitely the eye catchers I was hoping to find. What were my maids up to?

A knock on my door brings me back to reality. I swear to god if this is Aubree again. I turn around, surprised to see that my door is open. “Can I come up?” a voice starts. God this is worse than Aubree. The person behind the voice raises up in surrender, “I’m not here to fight, just talk and apologise.”

I sigh, would there ever come a day when Venus will leave me alone? “Sure, feel free to invade my privacy.”

She rolls her eyes in an amused manner. “Are you always this charming or is it reserved for me? Anyways I just wanted to apologise for everything that’s happened from the day we met on the plane.”

I cross my arms, not believing a word she just said. “And why is that?”

“Well for one, I don’t want to get kicked out. Two, you deserve an apology and everything became so heated quickly. I really am sorry for everything. Will you forgive me?”

Kindness, poise and being proper. Kindness, poise and being proper. Kindness, poise and being proper.

I repeat the words in my head multiple times. Then I sigh, knowing that I should probably listen to Lady Collette’s words of wisdom. “Okay fine. I don’t want to get kicked out either, so I’ll forgive you.”

Venus smiles at me and I want to barf. But I keep my face neutral. “Thank you! Now...I have a bit of a dilemma I need help with.” She passes me a note. Aada’s name is scribbled on the bottom. “I’m still angry with her for talking to me, to both of us. What do I do?”

I rip the note in half and throw it in the trashcan. “Here you go, that’s your response.”

She gasps at me, clearly lost for words. “Well...that’s something. I knew you’d be helpful for something. So other than our fights, how has your experience been so far?”

“Sweetie, it’s better to have me as your friend than as your enemy.” I sigh, “some girls here are testing out the enemy thing, will be interesting.”

“So I’ve learnt,” Venus gestures to the torn up note. Maybe ripping Aada’s note wasn’t the cleverest idea, but god I was so done with that girl. Venus offers me a sly smile, “care to drop names?”

“For starts, Aada. She may seem innocent, but she’s definitely not.”

Aada’s name triggers some hate in Venus, I can read it from her face. “Oh my goodness, tell me about it! I was ready to take her eye out after she spoke to us that way.”

“Yeah I might send a hitman after her.” I say in my calmest voice.

Venus laughs, “can I contribute to the fees?”

She obviously thinks I’m joking. Maybe I am, maybe I am not. Who knows?

“So how has your experience been?” I ask to change the topic.

“After the Pettiquette Incident as some of the girls call it, it was an interesting evening.” Then I see something that intrigues me, Venus blushes. Especially combined with what she says next. “I ran into Jace Bennett in the kitchen...”

I raise an eyebrow, “why are you blushing?”

She tugs at her collar, “it’s a hot day, Vic – can I call you that?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Yeah Vic is fine.” Even though it’s not really, but I have some more interesting details to pull out of her. I narrow my eyes, “you’re from Angeles, you should be used to this weather. Now spill it.” I can’t deal with this bullshit and she is obviously not telling the truth.

Venus sighs, “I really liked his company, more than I want to admit. I guess we could say we’re good friends.”

Of course, after one meeting. “Good friends, huh? May I remind you that you’re here for someone else? The Prince? Ever heard of him?”

“Of course I’m here for Nate! He’s lovely, like I said Jace and I are just friends. Besides I think Jace has a thing for Quinn.”

Again I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. “So convincing. Not. You should work on that.” A small, but eager smile appears on my face. I’m here for this drama. “Or admit that you would rather be here for Jace than for our very own Prince.”

“Ahem, treason! I would rather get kicked out for fighting with you than have my head chopped off. Besides I do not like Jace, I promise. I like Nate, he’s sweet and sings.”

I roll my eyes, “again very convincing.”

“Think what you like, Vic. What about you? Do you intend to be Queen? I think you’d scare all the foreign delegates into an alliance.” She giggles, desperately trying to change the topic. Unfortunately for Venus, I’m not someone who lets things go this easily.

“I know what I see and sweetie, your face says it all. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” My answer rewards itself with a grateful look from Venus. I sigh, “you make it seem as if scaring the delegates is a bad thing. But it doesn’t have to be, it keeps them on their toes.”

“It’s not a bad thing, you’d never go to war this way.”

I shrug, “true.” Why do people assume I’m here for the crown. I don’t need to be Queen to have power. Being the star in Illéa’s biggest reality TV show comes with enough power of its own. I am here for the Prince, believe it or not. However I will never admit that to anyone.

“So how did your first meeting with the Prince go? And I’m talking about the real Prince, not Jace.” I just need to get it out of her. Even though I already know that she obviously likes Jace better than the actual Prince. I just need to hear it come out of her mouth.

Venus sighs exasperated, “Jace isn’t even a Prince. Nate was lovely, we briefly talked about my channel, his taste in music and I made sure he knew there’s someone looking out for him, in the sea of 35 girls, we tend to forget he’s a real person too.”

“Jace might not be a real Prince, but he sure is the Prince of your heart.” I give her a sweet smile. Happy to know that she’s for someone else. “How nice, so it went alright then?”

“By Illéa, Vic! Someone is gonna hear you and have me arrested. You want that, don’t you?” Venus smiles amusingly, little does she know that it’s actually true. “Yeah it went well, how was your meeting with Nate?”

“I’m just saying that you should listen to your feelings.” I shrug at her question, “it went okay, I guess.”

She thinks for a moment, “you don’t sound so sure, did something happen?”

I wink at her, “see what I did there? That’s how you conceal something in a convincing way.” My meeting with the Prince went better than expected but I wasn’t going to tell anyone that. It was no one’s business. Plus I can’t give the competition extra information.

“Hey, I’ve been tricking Mothers all over Illéa that I’m a good role model for years. You’ve seen firsthand that I’m a terrible role model.. I guess I’m tired of pretending.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you change the conversation topic.

“Or you were never as good as you thought you were at pretending.” I think for a second, “or everyone else is just stupid enough to fall for your little act.” Oops. That wasn’t very ladylike. My bad.

“Ouch.” She winces, but it’s fake. “I would ask how you do it but you seem the same all around.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.” I smile, knowing I’m the master of hiding feelings.

“It is.” Venus smiles back. Thankfully she leaves quickly after that.

I have to say now that I know she’s not here for the Prince, I like her 10 times better.

Where was I? Oh right, admiring the dresses my maids created for me. These girls were so talented. I was really blessed with my maids. They were not the dumb, quiet ones I expected. They were not afraid to speak their minds, which was something I admired and needed.

“Did you drop something, miss?” Aeki asks me as she picks up a piece of paper.

“No, what is it?” Could it be a secret letter from the Prince? Aeki gives me the little note. I probably set my expectations too high, but who would send me something. It’s not as if I have befriended everyone here. Except for Allegra then, but she was probably too busy reading so it wouldn’t come from her. The only other person I acted civil to, was Venus but she left less than an hour ago. She wouldn’t send me something. God if this is another one of Aubree’s ‘I’m trying to look out for you’ things.

I open the note and read it. What? Aada? Is she serious right now?

I leave the note on my desk and walk out of my bedroom. If I remember correctly Aada’s room should be in the Grace hall. And no that’s not stalking, that’s called doing your research.

There’s a battle happening inside of me. Should I show her who is the boss around here? Or should I be nice and kind?

I knock on her door, still not sure what will happen. I guess I will just see what she has to say.

The door opens, “yes?” By the look on her face, I can tell that she is surprised to see me.

“I got your little note.” Keeping it between being a bitch and being kind.

“Oh...” She turns around to look at her room, “would you like to come inside...?”

“Yeah sure.” I walk inside, “nice room you have here.” Was that a compliment? From me? What is happening?

“Thank you,” Aada says as she closes the door. “I assume you came to speak with me?”

“Yes, do you mean what you wrote in your note?” Good job Vic, straight to the point.

She begins to laugh. I don’t understand what’s so funny so I just stare at her with a blank face. “Sometimes I forget how you don’t always say what you mean in Illéa. If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have written it.”

“I don’t know you very well so I couldn’t tell if you were being sarcastic or sincere.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

I need to find allies. No more drama. Don’t get kicked out! Be nice and act like a lady. It takes a lot of effort for me to say this, “oh well, I appreciate the note. I accept your apologies.” I sigh, the next thing is even more difficult, “I’m sorry for my behaviour, it wasn’t very ladylike.”

“As if any of us can be expected to be proper ladies.” She rolls her eyes, “I’ve been in my fair share of high society and this is something else.”

I raise an eyebrow, that’s not the answer I expected. I assumed Aada was more of the farmer type of girl. “High society you say?”

“Yes, once upon a time.”

“It's not my place to ask, since we've only been on good terms for a few minutes. But high society happens to be one of my favourite conversation topics so if you ever want to talk about it, let me know.” It’s the nicest answer I could think of, don’t judge me.

“It was a long time ago and I’m fairly certain things are different in Illéa. But I don’t mind talking. Honestly, it’s nice, especially after the fights.” I’m glad Aada feels the same way. Again, I could use some allies.

Things are different in Illéa? “Oh so you're talking about high society outside of Illéa? What happened?” God, Vic act like yourself please.

“Yes, well, we moved.”

I obviously do not get the hints that she doesn’t want to talk about it, given the short answers [Dom]. “Do you like Illéa better than where you moved from?”

“Truthfully, I’d rather move back.” Aada doesn’t seem interested in this conversation, I could be wrong though. But does that stop me? Of course not.

I raise an eyebrow, “why is that?”

“Illéa isn’t always the most welcoming of countries.”

That surprises me. I have been born and raised in Illéa, I wouldn’t know any differently. “It isn’t?”

“To quote you, I believe you said “How dare you speak to me like that, where are your manners?” Are you telling me that’s your way of being welcoming.” She smiles and chuckles softly.

Again her response surprises me. “That's my way of being welcoming, not the Illéan way. I'm sure there are nice people in Illéa somewhere.”

“Ah well, I have to say I wasn’t fortunate enough to experience a nice Illéan welcome. And if there are more than a handful of nice people I have yet to meet them.” Wow, how optimistic.

I clear my throat, I don’t know why perhaps to make my point clear. “The Prince is one of the nice Illéans. He will make you feel very welcome.”

“I hope so. He seemed very shy when I met him. How did your meeting go?” Shy? He seemed anything but shy to me.

“I bet he was just nervous. I can imagine why he would be.” I offer her a small, comforting smile. “Mine went okay, I guess. Not particularly good, not particularly bad.” Being nice didn’t mean I had to be honest. Hiding the truth won’t hurt anyone.

“Maybe,” Aada sighs, “I get the feeling. I keep thinking I might be one of the first ones he sends home because we didn’t exactly have a memorable first meeting”

“I'm sure he won't send you home. If you didn't make a bad impression on him, or insulted him, then you should be safe.” I try to reassure her once again.

“I hope so. I know I won’t stay forever but I just don’t want to go home right away.” She stops for a minute to think. “You know what’s funny?”

“What is?”

“I promised myself I’d keep my head down and eventually Prince Nathaniel would quietly send me home. But then you and Venus got into it and that went out the window”

“Wait, you're not here for the Prince?” Could this be true?

“I don’t know how all of this works, honestly. Not with you,” she gestures to me, “not with Prince Nathaniel and not with the Selection.”

I’m better at this friend thing than I expected. “I don’t think anyone really knows that to be honest.”

“Really?” Aada looks surprised.

“Yeah, this selection is quite a unique situation.” I chuckle a little, this whole thing is so weird. I don’t even know how to handle it myself, let alone provide someone else with the supporting words they need. “I don't think any of the selected really know what to do, let alone the Prince.”

“What about you?” She gives me a pointed look.

“Is that a serious question?” I laugh whilst remembering all the drama I’ve caused since I have been here. “I have gotten myself in fights with other girls on the first day, it's obvious I have no clue what I'm doing.”

“I just figured it was worth asking.” Aada doesn’t seem quite content with the answer

I decide to leave it at that. “Yes of course. Well I don’t want to overstay my welcome so I will leave you,” I smile which I rare, “have a nice day!”

“You too. And thank you. I’m sorry for everything.”

I turn around in front of the door, “I forgive you. I’m sorry for my behavior as well.”

“I forgive you too, goodnight.”

“Bye,” I say as I walk out of the door.

So Aada’s not here for the win either, that removes her from the competition. So I guess I can befriend her.

I return to my bedroom and think about everything that has happened. It has been such a weird day. First my encounter with Lady Collette, who turned out to be not as scary as I thought. Then my rekindling with Venus. I wouldn’t call us friends, but we’re on neutral grounds for now. And now that I know she’s no competition for me, we’ll probably stay on those grounds. Then there was the rekindling with Aada. I think we could potentially become friends. Who would have thought?

[kitanoko]

Peony and Blush Suede

          Rated: K+, dedicated to @mokstagger (thanks for ur ask!)

One shot, todomomo AU fanfic where Todoroki and Yaoyomomo meet under unusual circumstances

  The mask, made from faux leather and suede, covered the girl’s delicate features as her gaze followed the length of the staircase. Her parents were waiting underneath within the midst of the people, chatting and mingling like nobles in a castle. Except she was no noble, and the mansion the party was held at, although very grand, did not imbue any sense of adventure like a castle would have. The girl sighed as she walked carefully down each carpeted step. Heels first, Yaoyorozu reminded herself, then drop the sole. If any of those expensive and treacherous etiquette lessons were to leave any impact on her, it would be the one about moving in heels. 6 inch heels to be exact.

               Yaoyorozu could feel sweat beading on her forehead as she grasped tightly on the card in her right palm. The card was made of simple manila tag paper with words that she did not want to be reminded of. As she moved towards where her parents were standing, she observed those around her, the girls all holding cards similar to her own. Uneasiness filled her, and she was nervous from the thought of being judged by her quirk, like a circus freak performing for everyone’s pleasure. Every year she was told by her parents that showing off her powers in front of both strange and estranged faces would allow her to set foot onto a successful future. Would it though, that was the question.

……………………………………………

               “Miss, would you like a lobster and caviar devilled egg?” A waiter asked a woman nearby. The girl made a mental note of the woman, dressed in a long gown with a deep plunge in the front. The dress was daring, but gorgeous nonetheless, and every inch of it was covered with blue crystal sequins. As heavy as the gown may seem, the woman was able to move with it like second skin.

               “Ugh, egg? I only want the lobster and caviar.” She seethed, “I’ll pass.” The woman’s frustrated look only reinforced the girl’s preconceived notions on these types of gatherings. Snobbish, irritating, and not to mention, exhausting. Her daughter, a girl not any older than Yaoyorozu, stood patiently next to that woman with a sneer.

               Yaoyorozu greeted a few, young and unfamiliar faces as she slowly moved towards the end of the hall. Noticing that many had masks on, she realized that more and more maidens seemed to be invited to the annual gatherings at Nottingham Place. She scowled at the thought. At this day and age, everyone, no matter male or female, should have the opportunity to choose who they want to spend the rest of their lives with. These gatherings are nothing but a scam. Everyone’s daughters were treated like pawns to either continue some family’s lineage, or to have them sent off to a family who could uplift their own. It’s creepy really, having to auction off their child to a family whose son is some future big-shot just to enhance the family gene pool. She was told at an early age by so many family friends that her quirk was something to be admired, but it has been nothing but a collateral beauty. If she were normal, like both her parents, then maybe she could live a life of simplicity.

               There were few boys in the vicinity, and Yaoyorozu knew exactly why. They were only here to keep their mothers and fathers company, and to give opinions on the selection of their potential daughter-in-law. They didn’t even have masks, let alone cue cards.

               “Momo,” Yaoyorozu’s mother said affectionately, “Why don’t you introduce yourself, to um…”

               “It’s Mizutani-kun, dear,” her father quickly replied, obviously irritated with his wife’s forgetfulness.

               Yaoyorozu noticed the boy pacing back and forth in front of her parents. Taking a quick mental note for future reference, Yaoyorozu observed him from afar. Her analytical mind never took breaks, even during parties it seemed.

               Blue hair, blue eyes, medium build, 5 ft 11 about, seems like a coward, socially awkward. Ugh. Are her parents really hoping their daughter would marry this guy? Let alone have offsprings? The thought of that made her stomach twist worse than when she had Jirou’s homemade okonomiyaki.

               “Are you alright Momo? Choked on something?” Her father patted on her back, as if urging her to hurry and say something to the Mizutani kid. She gulped. Peeking from under her bangs, she noticed her father’s pointed gaze.

               “I’m…Momo, nice to meet you?” Her intonation ended a little too high, making it sound less genuine than it should have. The card, corners bent with several creases, was being turned playfully in her palm. She knew it was time to hand it to him.

               “Here, take a look,” she muttered, voice stern. She extended her arm rigidly, and the boy grabbed the card like candy to a child. Her father cocked an eyebrow.

               “Yaoyorozu Momo, 173 cm, first in the class, creation.” His eyes never left the card as he read, finger tracing through every word. He paused for a second, just enough for Momo to see the fascination that glinted in his eyes.  

               Mizutani’s voice raised a little, “I’m interested, I’ll remember your name.”

               Yaoyorozu’s mother did a visible sigh, her expression donning a wash of relief. His father gave a grin as well.

               “Thank you Mizutani-kun,” Her father shook the boys’ hands, “Talk to you later. Hope we will hear from you soon.”

               And with that, the boy turned swiftly and headed off, most likely towards another family. Scratch that, more like another candidate. Yaoyorozu watched him with distaste, feeling as though his presence alone sent spiders up her neck. What was Mizutani’s quirk though? It is technically the custom for both parties to disclose their quirks. What mockery, she rolled her eyes at the thought. She felt her mask slowly sinking down her face and adjusted it with the back of her hand.

               “Mom,” She started, “this mask is giving me a headache.”

               Her mom reached for Yaoyorozu’s hand and held it tightly, as if pleading with her eyes, she said, “Sweetie, we can go home soon. Do it for us, please?”

               Yaoyorozu bit her bottom lip, and nodded. The love for her family, she admitted, prisoned the freedom that she had always longed for. If only someone were to understand. It had become the norm in society to build status based on not just wealth, but also the potency and versatility of one’s quirk. Having no quirk at all, like her parents, signified a handicap that could affect their reputation in the future. And being business owners, that’s the last thing they wanted.

               She gestured to her parents that she would take another walk around, concealing the truth with the fact that it was merely for mingling with potential suitors. The dessert buffet caught her attention at that moment; seeing all the different pies and confectionaries made her stomach growl. It had become second nature to her to eat luxury pastries and cakes in the comfort of her own home, but right now, given her mood, extra lipids wouldn’t hurt.

               “I better replenish my stores for the next act I gotta pull off,” Yaoyorozu mumbled under her breath, eyes locked onto the molten chocolate cakes that were sure to be her first target. Without hesitation, she reached for a plate. However, from the corner of her eyes, she noticed a boy, about her age, hair as white as snow, and eyes with a dark hue, standing patiently and staring.

               “What were you mumbling about?” The boy turned to face her now, and she couldn’t help but gasp. He looked like two people merged into one! She quickly composed herself, replaying her mother’s words in her head: act accordingly.

               “What’s so funny?” He asked her again, looking genuinely curious. His left side that was hidden from view before had hair like fire and an eye that was turquoise like the sea. He helped himself to a brownie.

               Yaoyorozu patted her ruby red gown, smoothing out the wrinkles, “I wasn’t mumbling, I was just…”

               “Yeah you were,” he nonchalantly cuts her off, a few brownie crumbs on the side of his cheek. Yaoyorozu offered him a napkin.

               “You probably want to wipe that off,” she started, “you know, in case you want to look proper in front of the next candidate.”

               Realizing what she said, she scoffed, “I mean…I mean family! Not candidate, sorry, habit.”

               He watched her, without a word, and looked almost amused at the girl’s antics.

               “I better go back to my parents,” She continued. Her gaze fell, and she placed her cake back on the table without taking a bite. He’s still watching her, and she cringed. Was he just another creep that wanted to assess her potential and then offer her one of those unwritten contracts about marriage?

               “Okay, if what you want is to look at my card, well here it is,” She huffed, and shoved it into his hands and she knew she was angry out of nerves. He looked taken aback at the abrupt accusation, but didn’t let go of the card anyway.

               “You know what, you can keep it,” She exhaled deeply, “I don’t need this anyway.”

               She turned on her heels to leave, hands balled into fists, knowing well this wasn’t her usual self. But she’s had enough of this, and she needed an outlet.

               “Wait,” he called, he gave the card a glance “Yaoyorozu…if this card you had given me is correct…”

               He stepped a little bit closer.

“Then your quirk must be quite intriguing. Useful in battle, really. You should consider a career in heroics.”

               She turned around, surprised and looked up at him. He spoke so tranquilly, yet, she could sense a hint of animosity at the end of the sentence. Heroics though? Was he suggesting that she wasn’t merely a tool for producing the perfect child, but someone who could fight in her own right?

               “Are you a hero?” She ignored the weird looks given by those around her although some started to whisper amongst themselves, as eerie as it was.

               “Well, I want to be.” He gave an odd pause, before spitting out the next words, “My old man created me to be the perfect soldier.”

               “Oh.” Was all she managed to say. Her tone was soft, and she could see the burn scar that surrounded his left eye. Her memories came rushing back like whitewater and she could hear her parents’ hushed voices back then, when some kid in the neighbourhood had scalding water poured over his face by his mother. Her eyes widened. No wonder everyone was whispering in his presence.

So the boy standing in front of her was Endeavor’s kid.

               The boy’s expression was solemn, and he stuck his hands in his pocket as if that in itself was an act of defiance to his father. If it were her though, she probably would’ve ran away from home, or worse, go crazy. He was mentally strong, she knew then, and with his mature demeanor, she was sure he would make the best hero. She smiled at him, not that he could see it under her mask, and she pointed at the closest balcony.

“You wanna go get some fresh air?”

 …………………………………………��.

The moon hung low with full brilliance, and it shone softly on their faces as they took in the breathtaking view. The waves gentily rocking and swaying like their beautiful innocence. The girl stood closer to the edge, railings covered in suede and marble. She took a deep breathe, and exhaled, taking in the smell of saltwater. In spite of all the nonsense happening in the venue, Yaoyorozu knew the cliff beside the mansion was a spectacle to experience. Todoroki watched her quietly and rested his head on his palm, leaning against the railing.

               “Todoroki-san,” She gave him a smile, “thanks for your advice.”  

               He looked surprised, “What advice?”

               “You know, the thing about being a hero,” She said, “I always thought I’d just be used for my genes.” Yaoyorozu scoffed, and gestured towards the door behind them, “I mean that’s why I’m here aren’t I? Wearing this stupid mask and the gown…”

               She faked a laugh as her voice trailed off, but the boy didn’t follow.

               “You shouldn’t think of yourself as a tool,” he says, almost too tenderly for his intimidating appearance, “My friend once told me that, and I never let myself forget it. And I mean, you can take it off if you’re not comfortable with it.”

               He instinctively reached for the black, adorned mask that covered her features, and she took a step back.

               “The mask is supposed to hide my face,” She said with a little bit too much hesitation, “So that the suitors will only choose me for my quirk and not my appearance.”

               She doesn’t understand, but his neutral expression always seemed to be conveying much more than she could comprehend.

               “It’s just you and me,” he said casually, and he didn’t give up. His fingers laced under the material, and with the other hand, he curled her hair behind her ear to maneuver the elastic band off the mask. At that second, her heart skipped a beat and she could feel the heat rising up her cheeks. She could only hope the shadows of the night concealed her blush as Todoroki lifted it off, freeing her from the armour that she was buried behind.

               He placed the mask beside the magenta peonies to his right, and he cracked a smile. Yaoyorozu swore his smile should be illegal.

               “You look better,” He simply said.

               “Yeah that mask wasn’t my greatest creation,” She was flustered beyond belief, “But I mean…”

               “Have more confidence,” He said abruptly, facing the waters that rolled and collided on the cliff, “You’re more than what you create.”

               Yaoyorozu opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, fingers twirling the curly ends of her pony tail. Listening to the serene sea, it was at the moment, that she realized how intimate they were, despite them being young strangers. But reality had to be acknowledged at some point, and she knew he was here to choose a bride. She was sure both he and his parents already had someone in mind, given that the gathering was about to come to a close.

               In the background, a soft echo of a familiar piano piece began, grasping both of their attention. Their eyes followed each other, and Todoroki was the first to speak.

               “May I have this dance?”

               The girl nodded, and with arms playfully secured on top of each other’s shoulders, they started to take slow steps, as if testing each other’s reactions. The balcony limited their movements, but it was enough. Their dance steps were foreign to each other, with feelings new and alive, and the girl regretted not having met him earlier.

               The song ended with Yaoyorozu’s last twirl, her gown spinning with her, like a flower that just bloomed in the youthful spring. She smiled brightly, barely containing her emotions. She let his arm fall to his side, and she bowed.

               “Thank you, Todoroki-san,” She felt as if her throat had tied itself, her voice, unsteady, “I need to get going now.”

               “Okay,” was all he said, and she bit her lower lip out of habit, feeling a tad disappointed at his thoughtless response. She took a few steps forward, forgetting the mask that she had left behind, and dared herself to confess. Clutching her chest, she knew she had to act now, but she was so afraid. Afraid of his unguarded rejection. Afraid, maybe he had already made up his mind.

               “Todoroki-san,” She finally managed to say, sounding more so like a squeak, “How many cards have you gotten a hold of tonight?”

               He looked at her, digesting every word she said, and thought silently.

               “Too many to count,” He answered, and he could see the exact moment the light in her eyes had dimmed.  

……………………………………………..

               Days passed by quicker than she had thought. Everything felt like a long string of messed up fate.  Although school ended with Yaoyorozu passing, yet again, first in the class, she knew it was near the beginning of summer when proposals were to be passed from family to family. Ever since last year when she finally came of age for quirk marriages, she began to dread summer. She somehow survived last year, having only one offer from a well-known family’s son. Yaoyorozu was able to expertly devise an excuse to convince her parents that their quirk had absolutely zero compatibility, and somehow, by the skin of her teeth, she was able to dodge the calamity that could have been their marriage. This year, though, she wasn’t sure if she could reproduce the outcome.

              It didn’t help when she’s constantly thinking about one person. That one person who casted away her shadows. She was certain she has never loved anyone the way she loved him. 

               A knock on her bedroom door startled her out of her reverie, and she twisted the doorknob, only to find her mother looking as if she had won the lottery.

               “Momo,” Her mother gasped, “Someone’s here to propose. Could you change your attire and come downstairs? I’ll get the tea and condiments ready.”

               And with that her mom left her in the room, anxiety catching her breath like fire to a branch.

…………………………………………….

               Yaoyorozu swallowed hard. Standing in front of one of her several guest rooms, her mother gestured for her to enter.

               “Your father and I will be across the hall, with his parents,” Her mother pointed to another room, “Let me know if you need anything.”

                Heart thumping in her ears, she felt as though her own yukata would squeeze the air out of her, given how tight it was. Yaoyorozu watched as her mother left, and the girl took a deep breath before she slid the door open.

               On the other side of the room, warm eyes rested upon her. She almost tripped on her own foot, when the boy gave a short wave.

               “Todo-Todo-Todoroki-san?!” She was shocked beyond words, “What is the meaning of this?”

               The boy pushed a cup of tea towards her as she knelt down beside him, “I’m here to give a formal proposal.”

               He could see her looking as though a thousand thoughts were running through her mind.

               “Your yukata has a nice smell,” He said, and Yaoyorozu’s face flushed a soft pink. She noticed the bouquet of peonies next to her seat. She took one under her nose, smelling its gorgeous fragrance.

               “Don’t get me wrong,” he started, which prompted her to listen attentively, “I don’t see you as a medium for breeding children.”

               Somehow, that made her face as red as an apple.

               “I know! Of course!” She almost shouted, “I’m just…why? Why me?”

               As if on cue, he took out a piece of note paper out and flattened it with the palm of his hand to loosen the creases.

“To answer that question you asked me a few months ago,” He said, leaning closer “I was able to get a hold of many, many cards. But I only wanted to read one.”

He grabbed her hand and placed the familiar piece of paper on her hand.

               “And it was yours.”

Author’s note: I named the fanfic after my favourite Jo Malone fragrance haha. It’s my headcannon from the drama CD that Todoroki likes to ask Yaoyomomo what she’s mumbling about all the time. The piano song that’s playing when they dance is, in my imagination, the “Date 2″ theme from “Kimi no Na Wa”. Here’s a vid of the song. Hope you enjoyed it, what happens after is up to your imagination :)

[hermanwatts]

THE HERETICS OF ST. POSSENTI: An excerpt

In THE HERETICS OF ST. POSSENTI, Bishop Thomas Cranberry finds himself at a loss when he is confronted by a thief and realizes some disturbing truths about himself. The experience sends him in search of the men who are increasingly absent from the Church, who find themselves at a loss in a world that has gone increasingly feral, and who feel that they have nowhere to go and no one to whom they can turn for support. In listening to them and attempting to understand their plight, he finds an unexpected mission.

A new monastic order requires a new monastery, built by the hands of the brothers themselves. Despite proper care and instruction, accidents still happen. Two monks accompany an injured brother to the emergency room and are forced to confront the evils of the world outside their cloistered refuge.

The ER waiting room was not crowded. There were just three other people waiting. Brother Hugh sat, slightly self-conscious about his habit and appearance, reading one of the magazines while he waited for a progress report. Alan was in with Tim and the doctor. He heard the argument before he saw them walk in. A Hispanic couple—well, a pair who were Hispanic and side by side anyway—were arguing loudly in Spanish as they entered, she very visibly pregnant and apparently in labor, he very angry and animated. It was unclear what exactly they were arguing about, but it didn’t appear to be joy and the impending need for a new name in the family.

Hugh kept an eye on them while pretending to continue reading. The receptionist picked up the phone. The couple kept arguing. When an orderly showed up and tried to speak with them in Spanish, attempting to calm them down and understand or defuse the problem, the man only got more animated.

The receptionist made another phone call.

The argument got worse, and the woman sitting down and panting hard while a contraction hit didn’t make it get any better.

Two more orderlies showed up. So did a knife in the hand of the Hispanic man.

One of the orderlies dodged a slice by his attacker, tripped backward over a coffee table, and nearly landed on Hugh.

Hugh put on his best pissed-off sergeant face, stood up, feet apart and arms akimbo, and glared at the unruly assailant. Suddenly, the woman’s argument prominently featured the words dios, sacerdote, and monji. The young man continued screaming and waving the knife around. The orderlies all backed off. The receptionist was talking urgently into the phone. The knife wielder made as if to threaten the woman with it.

Hugh took a step forward and went into a more combative stance. “Kid, put that damned cuchillo away NOW because if you hurt her or I have to take that pig sticker away from you, I swear to God I’m tempted to rip your arm off and beat you half to death with the bloody stump!” His tone said he meant it. He pulled one hand inside the sleeve of his robe, ready for action.

The pregnant woman looked aghast. Her boyfriend slashed at the bigger man, who dodged it. Slice, slash, short stabbing motion; side-step, block, dodge. The smaller man started coming after the monk more aggressively but still took a swipe at anyone else who got too close. He was as quick as Hugh, but much less disciplined and much more erratic. Hugh could feel the blade contact lightly a couple of times, but felt no bite of cutting pain or changes of motion, only the barely noticeable sting of impact.

His opponent made a leap and a stab. Hugh trusted the material of the robe, deflected the blade slightly, and grabbed the man’s arm with a pull, twist, and trip. He put on a vicious arm lock as they went down together. The knife was still in the man’s hand, but at a totally useless angle, with Hugh in total control of the arm as he lay atop the struggling man, putting gradually more and more pressure on it. The orderlies saw the knife was captive, so they joined in to pin the kicking legs, using their knees, the violent man’s pressure points, and leverage to render him nearly immobile except for his incoherent screaming. But the man still held the knife and tried to struggle. Hugh and the orderlies didn’t even try to talk to him.

Working carefully, Hugh adjusted his grip slightly. With a wad of his robe protecting his hand he gripped the knife blade and twisted it out of his opponent’s hand and tossed it aside. In spite of being disarmed, the hostile man continued to fight a losing battle until a pair of police officers ran in and added an additional two pairs of hands, cuffs, and pressure point activations to get a reasonable level of compliance. While that was going on, the pregnant woman was whisked off in a wheelchair to a safer, quieter delivery room.

After they secured the shackled man in their cruiser, the two officers returned to take statements, starting with the receptionist who had called them, and then the orderlies. When they got to Hugh, who looked to be unconcerned with it all and was back to reading a month-old Popular Mechanics, the two policemen wore somewhat amused expressions.

“Name?” asked the first, whose name-tag read Gonzales.

“Hugh Antczak. A-N-T-C-Z-A-K.”

“What happened?”

“What they said,” he looked toward the admissions desk. “The guy and his squeeze came in arguing. Orderly came in to ask questions and calm him down. The guy pulled a blade. One of the hospital guys nearly landed on me trying to save his own neck, so I figured it was time I did something. I got up and hoped the habit here would get through his drug-haze. Didn’t work, and he threatened the girl, so I told him to knock it off. He tried to stick me. I blocked it and dropped him, and then the orderlies piled on and helped keep him down until the cavalry showed up to take him away. And we all lived happily ever after.”

Gonzales chuckled at his wry description.

“Did you get cut when he took a poke at you?”

“No, don’t think so.” Hugh did a quick check just to make sure. “Yep, blade missed me. He wasn’t particularly fast as I recall.” He didn’t say anything about the material his robe was made out of.

“Do you remember what you said to him?” asked the second officer. “Not exactly.”

“What the receptionist said you said didn’t sound very… priestly.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of new to all this. Less than a month, in fact. Spent a lot of time in a different uniform. Wasn’t working out. Old habits die hard, you might say.”

The three spent the next fifteen minutes going over details, his contact information, and all the normal things that a police report has to have.

They were wrapping up when Brother Alan showed up. “I hear I missed some excitement.”

“You could say so,” replied Hugh. “How’s Tim?”

“Likely be okay. Gave him some more meds to help the swelling and reduce his blood pressure a little bit. Nothing broken in his thick skull. Hey, mind going in there for a minute? The young lady who came in a little bit ago wants to see you.”

“Young lady?”

“Yeah, you know. The preggers chick… I mean, the gravid Hispanic female whom you saved from her hopped up insignificant other.”

“Why? I mean, why would she want to see me?” Hugh noticed the police officer’s expression. “He’s new to the monastic thing, too. Still working on proper etiquette.”

“Dunno, hoss. She seems to have a child now, and I don’t speak Spanish, but it sounded like she wanted your blessing or something.”

“Blessing? Me?”

“Well, you are of the cloth, now, Brother Knife-Meister,” reminded Alan.

THE HERETICS OF ST. POSSENTI: An excerpt published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[swipestream]

An Excerpt from THE HERETICS OF ST. POSSENTI

In THE HERETICS OF ST. POSSENTI, Bishop Thomas Cranberry finds himself at a loss when he is confronted by a thief and realizes some disturbing truths about himself. The experience sends him in search of the men who are increasingly absent from the Church, who find themselves at a loss in a world that has gone increasingly feral, and who feel that they have nowhere to go and no one to whom they can turn for support. In listening to them and attempting to understand their plight, he finds an unexpected mission.

A new monastic order requires a new monastery, built by the hands of the brothers themselves. Despite proper care and instruction, accidents still happen. Two monks accompany an injured brother to the emergency room and are forced to confront the evils of the world outside their cloistered refuge.

*     *     *      *      *

The ER waiting room was not crowded. There were just three other people waiting. Brother Hugh sat, slightly self-conscious about his habit and appearance, reading one of the magazines while he waited for a progress report. Alan was in with Tim and the doctor. He heard the argument before he saw them walk in. A Hispanic couple—well, a pair who were Hispanic and side by side anyway—were arguing loudly in Spanish as they entered, she very visibly pregnant and apparently in labor, he very angry and animated. It was unclear what exactly they were arguing about, but it didn’t appear to be joy and the impending need for a new name in the family.

Hugh kept an eye on them while pretending to continue reading. The receptionist picked up the phone. The couple kept arguing. When an orderly showed up and tried to speak with them in Spanish, attempting to calm them down and understand or defuse the problem, the man only got more animated.

The receptionist made another phone call.

The argument got worse, and the woman sitting down and panting hard while a contraction hit didn’t make it get any better.

Two more orderlies showed up. So did a knife in the hand of the Hispanic man.

One of the orderlies dodged a slice by his attacker, tripped backward over a coffee table, and nearly landed on Hugh.

Hugh put on his best pissed-off sergeant face, stood up, feet apart and arms akimbo, and glared at the unruly assailant. Suddenly, the woman’s argument prominently featured the words dios, sacerdote, and monji. The young man continued screaming and waving the knife around. The orderlies all backed off. The receptionist was talking urgently into the phone. The knife wielder made as if to threaten the woman with it.

Hugh took a step forward and went into a more combative stance. “Kid, put that damned cuchillo away NOW because if you hurt her or I have to take that pig sticker away from you, I swear to God I’m tempted to rip your arm off and beat you half to death with the bloody stump!” His tone said he meant it. He pulled one hand inside the sleeve of his robe, ready for action.

The pregnant woman looked aghast. Her boyfriend slashed at the bigger man, who dodged it. Slice, slash, short stabbing motion; side-step, block, dodge. The smaller man started coming after the monk more aggressively but still took a swipe at anyone else who got too close. He was as quick as Hugh, but much less disciplined and much more erratic. Hugh could feel the blade contact lightly a couple of times, but felt no bite of cutting pain or changes of motion, only the barely noticeable sting of impact.

His opponent made a leap and a stab. Hugh trusted the material of the robe, deflected the blade slightly, and grabbed the man’s arm with a pull, twist, and trip. He put on a vicious arm lock as they went down together. The knife was still in the man’s hand, but at a totally useless angle, with Hugh in total control of the arm as he lay atop the struggling man, putting gradually more and more pressure on it. The orderlies saw the knife was captive, so they joined in to pin the kicking legs, using their knees, the violent man’s pressure points, and leverage to render him nearly immobile except for his incoherent screaming. But the man still held the knife and tried to struggle. Hugh and the orderlies didn’t even try to talk to him.

Working carefully, Hugh adjusted his grip slightly. With a wad of his robe protecting his hand he gripped the knife blade and twisted it out of his opponent’s hand and tossed it aside. In spite of being disarmed, the hostile man continued to fight a losing battle until a pair of police officers ran in and added an additional two pairs of hands, cuffs, and pressure point activations to get a reasonable level of compliance. While that was going on, the pregnant woman was whisked off in a wheelchair to a safer, quieter delivery room.

After they secured the shackled man in their cruiser, the two officers returned to take statements, starting with the receptionist who had called them, and then the orderlies. When they got to Hugh, who looked to be unconcerned with it all and was back to reading a month-old Popular Mechanics, the two policemen wore somewhat amused expressions.

“Name?” asked the first, whose name-tag read Gonzales.

“Hugh Antczak. A-N-T-C-Z-A-K.”

“What happened?”

“What they said,” he looked toward the admissions desk. “The guy and his squeeze came in arguing. Orderly came in to ask questions and calm him down. The guy pulled a blade. One of the hospital guys nearly landed on me trying to save his own neck, so I figured it was time I did something. I got up and hoped the habit here would get through his drug-haze. Didn’t work, and he threatened the girl, so I told him to knock it off. He tried to stick me. I blocked it and dropped him, and then the orderlies piled on and helped keep him down until the cavalry showed up to take him away. And we all lived happily ever after.”

Gonzales chuckled at his wry description.

“Did you get cut when he took a poke at you?”

“No, don’t think so.” Hugh did a quick check just to make sure. “Yep, blade missed me. He wasn’t particularly fast as I recall.” He didn’t say anything about the material his robe was made out of.

“Do you remember what you said to him?” asked the second officer. “Not exactly.”

“What the receptionist said you said didn’t sound very… priestly.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of new to all this. Less than a month, in fact. Spent a lot of time in a different uniform. Wasn’t working out. Old habits die hard, you might say.”

The three spent the next fifteen minutes going over details, his contact information, and all the normal things that a police report has to have.

They were wrapping up when Brother Alan showed up. “I hear I missed some excitement.”

“You could say so,” replied Hugh. “How’s Tim?”

“Likely be okay. Gave him some more meds to help the swelling and reduce his blood pressure a little bit. Nothing broken in his thick skull. Hey, mind going in there for a minute? The young lady who came in a little bit ago wants to see you.”

“Young lady?”

“Yeah, you know. The preggers chick… I mean, the gravid Hispanic female whom you saved from her hopped up insignificant other.”

“Why? I mean, why would she want to see me?” Hugh noticed the police officer’s expression. “He’s new to the monastic thing, too. Still working on proper etiquette.”

“Dunno, hoss. She seems to have a child now, and I don’t speak Spanish, but it sounded like she wanted your blessing or something.”

“Blessing? Me?”

“Well, you are of the cloth, now, Brother Knife-Meister,” reminded Alan.

An Excerpt from THE HERETICS OF ST. POSSENTI published first on http://ift.tt/2zdiasi